


2 Bros, 1 Bag of Chemically Engineered Cheese Triangles

by notwest



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Doritos - Freeform, First Kiss, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Meteorstuck, POV Karkat Vantas, Play Fighting, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-15
Updated: 2018-02-15
Packaged: 2019-03-18 22:16:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,917
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13690941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notwest/pseuds/notwest
Summary: This is the moment he allows himself to think it.Dave likes you.---I sawthis promptthe other day and felt inspired.warning: this is a highly cliched, self indulgent first kiss meteorficyou know you love it though





	2 Bros, 1 Bag of Chemically Engineered Cheese Triangles

**Author's Note:**

> this fic was previously titled Reclassify.

Fuck Doritos. Karkat presses a bag of the putrid orange dusted triangles Dave loves so much between his palms. He applies pressure, but the snack continues to not release itself from it’s crinkly air sealed compartment. Why the fuck are these plastic containment vessels so hard to open?

He squeezes the bag tighter. How the hell does Dave do this? Karkat can't remember actually watching Dave open any of the countless bags of ‘chips’ he eats on a daily basis. Personally, Karkat has never been interested in eating the orange abominations. He’d tried one once and found that it had a weird chemical, almost engineered flavor. He’d wondered if it was something imparted by the alchemization process, but was proved incorrect as Dave soon informed him, while munching happily on his first of many, many helpings of the snack, that they tasted exactly as he remembered them back on Earth. 

Unfortunately, the meteor was fresh out of grub cakes at the moment, Karkat's indulgence of choice, and one Dave had once dumbly described as tasting like ‘a twinkie had sex with a starburst’. 

All of these words were completely alien to Karkat, and Dave had absolutely delighted in giving him a thorough explanation of the moronic intricacies of human supererogatory nourishment. It turns out that humans had an absolutely absurd variety of spongy, sweet cake snacks that were coated or filled with various sugary sauces. It made no sense. But neither did the fact that Karkat was an actual willing participant in this explanation, which had easily been twenty minutes long.

Karkat knows exactly why though. Because only when it comes to Dave do his actions so completely and consistently defy all logic! Because as much as he is loathe to admit it, Karkat would do anything to feel closer to Dave. Up to and especially including how he is and has always been perfectly willing to wade through the miles upon miles of absolute bullshit Dave spins on a daily basis about any and all topics that just so happen to cross the top of his underdeveloped thinkpan!

Karkat can’t pretend he hasn’t been counting the signs. No, he’s definitely been counting them; cataloguing them, labeling them, and filing them neatly away in the mental file cabinet he has dedicated to figuring out if Dave has romantic feelings about him. He sees them everywhere. They aren’t planet shatteringly huge, just little moments that never fail to make his heart jackhammer in his chest when he replays them in his head before bed, turning them over and over again, stretching and kneading them like dough for the galaxy’s most pathetic grub loaf. Indexed neatly away are the lingering touches, the near infinitum of jokes about human genitalia and sloppy makeouts, the needlessly prolonged interactions, and the times where Karkat can’t exactly be sure, but he definitely feels like Dave is just staring at him from behind those shades. 

Karkat sighs, hating himself. Why, oh  _ why _ does he always have to develop a pan achingly pathetic crush on any and every living entity that gives him more than a half second of attention? And as if to somehow make him even more of a catastrophic fuck up, he still can’t even pick out what his feelings actually are! Sometimes they’re red, others pitch, and even more often, like the times he looks at Dave and instantly recognizes his discomfort betrayed by a twitch of his head, or fidgeting hands shoved deeply into his pockets, a flex of his throat, a downturn of his mouth, Karkat is hit with feelings so pale he can barely breathe. 

“Woah woah! Claws off the Doritos, bro!”

Karkat’s heart gives a little jump, like it always does when Dave makes an appearance. Like it suddenly decides it should be paying attention. Like a hapless, hearts-struck fucking wiggler. 

Dave is standing in the entryway of the nutrition block, both eyebrows visibly raised above his idiotic shades. Karkat turns his back, hunching over the bag of chips, and growls. 

“Fuck off. I’m hungry, and there’s nothing else to eat on this piece of shit meteor!”

Dave scoffs. “Go alchemize some of your rank troll food! You know the Doritos are sacred, bro. After all, what is a man without his simple creature comforts?”

“Spare me your vapid philosophical bullshit, Strider. We are all aware that you don’t possess even half of the intelligence or depth of the load gaper you rode in on. And you know the alchemiter is broken! I’m just going to eat these. Not that it’s any of your business, but I was in the middle of a very engaging chapter in my novel and I’m very fucking interested in getting back to it as soon as possible if you don’t mind!”

Apparently, Dave does mind. In the blink of an eye, Dave launches himself across the room, effectively tackling Karkat to the ground. They land in an awkward tangle of limbs and Karkat smacks his head, hard, on the tiled floor.

“AAAARRGHH! DAVE, WHAT THE FUCK!” 

Dave scrambles up, quickly positioning himself so that he’s on top of Karkat, straddling him just above the hips; one hand is on Karkat’s chest, holding him to the ground, and one hand is triumphantly raised in the air, dangling the bag of Doritos.

Karkat flails his limbs, fuming. Fuck. He can’t move. Shit. He can feel his face heating up, they are way too close. The sight of Dave, panting lightly and nearly on top of his fucking bulge has Karkat thoroughly flustered, the pain in his head nearly forgotten.

As to be expected, Dave quickly launches into a monologue. “Yo, have you ever watched those wildlife documentaries that show what a mother will do to protect her children? It gets wild, like you think you’re watching a nice cute video about soft bunny rabbits when all of a sudden the mom is going fucking berserk murder psycho mode on some snake that basically was just looking for a nice dinner when he slithered straight into her living room and tried to take a bite of one of her little bunny babies...”

Karkat has been sitting very still, focusing on the way Dave’s hold on him gets loose when he gesticulates in his narration. He is studying the pattern in which Dave’s hand will dip down occasionally, causing him to wave the chips just close enough for Karkat to reach. 

Dave continues, “That’s what’s going on here. I’ve been cast with the dutiful role of the mother, protecting my precious artificially cheesy offspring from a bloodthirsty predator, that’s you, even though you have no appreciation for the sexy taste of Doritos-- HEY!”

Karkat swipes his arm up with perfect timing, knocking the packet clear out of Dave’s hands.

They’re both moving before it hits the floor. As Karkat pushes forward, Dave’s weight simultaneously lifts off of him and they both go barrelling toward the bag. 

Karkat’s hand reaches the Doritos first. Right before Dave can crash into him again, he rolls to the side and pops up onto his feet. He grips the bag tightly, pulls it down to his chest and… bingo! He finally manages to rip it open. Karkat manages about two full full seconds of feeling accomplished before the ground slips from underneath him once more. 

He smacks chest first to the floor, as once again all of Dave’s weight is pressed over him. He ignores the pulse of heat that hits him once again at the close contact and focuses on still gripping the bag, arms thrown out in front of him. He grips it as tightly as he can while Dave tries to pry it from his hands. 

Dave’s voice comes from above his head. “Dude, let go of the human food!” 

“No, you let go! I had it first, and I don’t give a shit what kind of food it is. I’m hungry, you nooklicking douchewagon!”

Dave is leaning forward to grab at the chips, and Karkat tries to use his bottom half to buck Dave off. It’s not that easy. Dave manages to cling to the bag, but they do flip positions until they are locked in a weird sort of embrace, rolling around on the floor with the Doritos stuck in a tug of war between their chests. Karkat thinks there is no chance there’s any chips left that aren’t completely crushed, so why are they even fighting still? Not to mention that most of the chips have spilled out onto the floor already. 

The world suddenly goes dark. He goes to yell and gets a mouthful of fabric. Dave’s fucking cape is pressed up against Karkat’s face, blocking his nostrils and he can’t breathe. In his panic, he twists and shoves a knee up and into some soft part of Dave. He hears a yelp and the cape is quickly whipped off his head, the warmth of Dave’s body receding. 

Karkat sits up slowly. Dave is now sitting a few feet away, back to Karkat, his hand rubbing at his side. That must be where Karkat hit him. His hair is completely mussed and sticking up in every direction. It’s frustratingly attractive. 

Karkat is in a haze, stuck between feeling this floaty high after all the contact he’s just had with Dave, and a hopeless, empty longing for something he isn't sure he can ever have. He takes a deep breath and does his best to squash the thoughts down for now.

Also, there are Doritos crumbs everywhere.

“Well, that was fucking dumb.”

“Speak for yourself, dude. I’ll never apologize for defending my God given right to eat heavily processed cheesy corn snacks.”

“Yeah, well. Thanks a lot, Strider. Your brilliant defense plan has left us both with a metric fuck ton of guess what? Nothing! Are you happy?”

“Okay yeah, we may have lost a few good men in the battle, but fighting mindlessly over what you believe in without caring about the consequences or casualties? Now, that’s as American as apple pie. Which wow, speaking of, that would be a good snack.” 

Karkat sighed, watching the back of Dave’s head with the same mixture of fondness, exasperation and desire that had been plaguing him for perigees now. How long could he go on like this? 

Karkat notices Dave’s shades lying a few inches away from his left hand. 

“Wow, I guess it’s just my luck that your douchtacular darkened eyewear didn’t get crushed to bits too.”  

“Oh shit, where are my shades?”

“They’re right behind you, asshole.”

Dave turns but quickly ducks his head, avoiding eye contact, and extends his arm to pick up his shades. Without thinking, Karkat shoots his arm out and grabs Dave’s wrist. Dave looks up at Karkat in surprise. 

_ Red. _

Dave’s eyes are so unbelievably red and absolutely beautiful, framed by long blond lashes and Karkat had no idea how much eyes make up a person’s face and Dave’s is just… oh. If Karkat wasn’t breathless before, he sure as fuck is now. 

“Wow,” Karkat whispers.

For a moment they just sit, looking into each other's eyes. Dave blinks first.

“Dude, this is so gay.” Dave tries to pull his arm back and laugh, but it’s strained and tight sounding. Karkat doesn’t let go of Dave’s wrist. 

Karkat has a small debate with himself, and then says what he’s thinking anyway. “I like them.”

Dave looks down, swallows. He’s never seen Dave look so uncomfortable. Then again, he’s never seen Dave look so... anything. 

When Dave speaks, he sounds casual, but there’s an uncomfortable, almost hysterical sounding edge to voice. “Man, this is ironic gold when you think about it because this is exactly how shit goes down in every romance movie. The two leads, who are probably roommates or best friends or something, have some dramatic argument, usually over something really small and easily fixed by having like one actual conversation, which turns into a big fight, then they decide never to see eachother again, but then they meet again at some coffee shop or at the airport and look into each other’s eyes only to realize that they both loved each other all along. Karkat, we’ve reached the top tier of irony, dude. Now all you have to do is say ‘What are we doing’ and we can finally lock lips, roll the credits, and live happily ever after.”

An instant after he stops speaking, Dave’s face goes red enough to match his eyes. Karkats’ mouth drops open as he parses Dave’s words. Heat flushes through him he can feel all the to the tips of his ears.

Karkat is still holding Dave’s wrist, and it feels solid, like the only thing that’s anchoring him to this plane of reality. His thumb twitches along the underside. The skin there is so soft. Dave is saying something else now but Karkat isn’t listening. It’s hard to focus on Dave, when he’s trying to focus on  _ Dave. _ Karkat is having a moment. 

This is the moment when he takes an inventory of everything he had been storing away in his head, searching through the tall stacks of folders and files, relabeling and sorting all the things he thought he knew about Dave, all the things he knows now, and all the things he still doesn’t know at all. 

Dave is still. He’s not talking anymore, he looks uncertain and flighty, like he’s about to dart away at any second with those lightning fast movements he does.

In his sudden rearrangement of his mental records, Karkat comes across a thought he has been long been fantasizing about, one that he eventually always puts down as a foolish, sky high wish. With his heart in his throat, he takes it out. Reclassifies. Lets it smack down, hard, in the present reality. 

This is the moment he allows himself to think it. 

_ Dave likes you. _

Karkat lunges forward before he can let himself think of anything else and presses his mouth to Dave’s. 

The kiss lasts less than a second, so fast it could have almost been an accident, so fast he doesn’t even register how or if Dave reacted. Karkat pulls back, terrified.

Dave is just staring, eyes wide and mouth pressed into a line. Panic floods through Karkat. He starts to pick himself up, a flush of embarrassment quickly settling in. He wants to say something, wants to yell, anything, but his throat seems to be closing up. 

He can feel a fire starting in his mind, flames licking at the edges of shiny metal cabinets, ready to burn them down, destroy all the evidence he’s gathered. An internal alarm is blaring a deafening message. 

_ You were wrong, you were wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong. _

“Karkat, wait-”

Karkat turns to leave, already feeling tears prickling at the corners of his eyes. Inhumanly fast, a hand appears on his wrist. He turns back to see the corners of Dave’s mouth slowly start turning up. It’s like watching a time lapse video of a flower blooming. Hope rises and swells in Karkat’s chest like a hot air balloon. 

And then it’s Dave who pushes forward. Their lips meet again, and Karkat’s world is flipped on its head. He finds himself suddenly willing to call Gamzee and apologize for ever doubting the reality of fucking miracles, because there’s not many other words he can think of to use to describe this very moment. 

Dave’s lips are soft and warm against his, which is nice. Kissing is nice. It’s also wet, but that’s mostly due to the tears that are falling down his face. And if Dave notices, he doesn’t comment. But what’s really shocking is just how good it feels. Karkat’s mind goes quiet, and his body is filled with a pleasant, contented buzz. 

Sure, based on every romance movie Karkat has ever seen he’ll be the first to admit that neither of them are exactly getting points on their form unless it’s for awarding the worst fucking kissing in the world, but it doesn’t matter. He’s kissing  _ Dave. _

He feels so light. There’s a giddiness that’s bubbling up in his chest. He breaks the kiss, putting a hand to his mouth to stop himself from giggling outright. 

Dave throws himself back onto the floor, laughing openly. His grin is broad, and Karkat follows it all the way up to his eyes. He’s beautiful.

Dave spreads his legs and Karkat gets down and scoots between them. He puts his arms around Dave’s chest, and Dave puts his arms around Karkat’s shoulders in turn. It feels wonderful. It feels warm and good and right. 

“This is so fucking gay,” Dave says again. This time, though, his voice is laced with a smile.

Karkat doesn’t respond except to kiss him again. 

A hazy warmth spreads through his body. He could do this forever. Kissing Dave softly, having him pressed close, hands wandering into his soft silk of his hair, across the smooth expanse of his back, over the curve of his cheek--

A loud grumble from his stomach brings Karkat back to reality and he suddenly remembers the almost comical fact that they are still in the nutrition block, and still completely surrounded by crushed Doritos. 

“Fuck. I’m still hungry.”

Dave pulls back, lips parted and eyes heavy lidded. 

“What? Oh, dude, it’s cool. I have like, ten more bags of Doritos in my room.”

Karkat shoots up, his eyes wild.  

“YOU WHAT?”

**Author's Note:**

> kick it with me at [davekatprompts.tumblr.com](davekatprompts.tumblr.com)


End file.
